


Back to You

by MikusProud



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Romance, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:22:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24527578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MikusProud/pseuds/MikusProud
Summary: She was drawn to the Room. It had become an obsession taking over her life. Her relationships suffered, her health suffered, but she still couldn’t walk away. And she couldn’t explain why.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Remus Lupin, Sirius Black/Hermione Granger
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’m back again! It’s been awhile since I have posted anything. That’s because I have been working on this story for a long time, and I finally feel comfortable posting the first chapter. I have a couple notes before you begin.
> 
> This is a true WIP. While I have written large chunks of the story and have most of it planned out, at this time, this is the only completed chapter. Updates will be sporadic, and while I made a promise to myself to never leave a work of mine incomplete, this is the first time I am posting the start of story without a majority of it already having been written. You have been warned!
> 
> I love, love, love reviews! They keep me motivated to write and make me so happy. But I will be completely honest and say I do not respond to reviews. It is not a strength of mine, and though I have tried to be good about it in the past, I just want to start this one out acknowledging my weakness so no one is disappointed if they review and I don’t respond. It’s not because I’m not grateful or don’t care.
> 
> This is AU in many ways. I have made deliberate deviations from canon where it suits the story. If something is not quite right or doesn't work quite the same way I have it in canon, assume it has been done on purpose. 
> 
> Thank you, as always, to my friend and beta, Ms. K. Everdeen!
> 
> Disclaimer: I wish I could live in this world, but I unfortunately don’t own any of it.

Hogwarts’ grounds looked barren in the early dawn light, with the sun's rays not high enough in the sky to burn away the lingering fog that layered the ground. The first, early spring shoots that were just adventurous enough to begin poking their heads out of the still hard, partially snow covered ground of early-April in the Scottish Highlands could not be seen.   
  
Hermione sighed deeply, resting her forehead against the icy feeling windowpane that overlooked the eastern grounds. Hagrid's hut stood out starkly against the dark Forbidden Forest behind it; smoke curling up from the chimney before disappearing into the bright sun light beginning to peak over the trees. She knew she would soon see the windows of the hut light up as Hagrid arose to see to the creatures in his care at the beginning of this new day.  
  
She knew because, despite the early hour, she was to be found at this window most mornings, as she had been for the last six and a half years. She pulled her heavy dressing gown closer around herself, and shifted her stockinged feet around on the cold stone floor to relieve some of the pain that inevitably settled into her bones every morning as she stood vigil to watch the sun come up.  
  
When the lights flared up in Hargid's window and the sun had fully passed the tops of the trees, Hermione sighed again and turned away to make herself a cup of tea and prepare for her day.

* * *

"Professor Granger? I was hoping to go over my grade for the exam you just handed back."  
  
Hermione bit back a groan and turned to face her student. She had been expecting the question, but she couldn't help but hope that she may get a reprieve. It was her last class of the day and she had a pounding headache. She had been hoping to slip back to her room for a pain potion before facing the rowdy dinner crowd in the Great Hall.  
  
Miss Young was an over-achieving, sixth year, Ravenclaw. A very sweet girl, but she could be very grating on the nerves. She reminded Hermione painfully of herself during her younger years, right down to the girl's overly large front teeth and bushy hair. Though Miss Young's hair was blond.  
  
Hermione forced herself to relax and put a smile on her face, "Of course Miss Young, what seems to be the problem?"  
  
The young woman fidgeted before spewing, "I just don't see how I could have only received an E! I studied so hard for this exam, and I was sure all my calculations were exact!"  
  
Hermione mentally rolled her eyes. Had her professors done the same when Hermione had made those same statements to them? Most likely.  
  
"We've been through this before, Miss Young. An E is a perfectly respectable grade! This exam was quite difficult, and all of your hard work paid off, even if you didn't receive an O."  
  
"But I don't understand what could have gone wrong!"  
  
Hermione was quite certain she had explained exactly what had gone wrong in the notes she had left on the exam. But the girl had always required a bit of hand holding.   
  
Trying to decide if it was worth pushing the issue off to the following afternoon during her office hours, she quickly decided against it. With dinner beginning in less than twenty minutes, Hermione thought she had better get it over with now while Miss Young had a time limit rather than leave herself open to a potentially very long-winded discussion during her open, two-hour office hour block. She had to skip the pain potion for now, but it wouldn't be the first time she had suffered through the loud Great Hall with a headache.  
  
"All right, Miss Young, let's sit, and I'll show you where you went wrong." 

* * *

She arrived at dinner ten minutes tardy, slipping into her usual seat at the end of the faculty table. Though this was her seventh year of teaching, she often still felt like much of an outcast amongst the other faculty members. They were quite a clique-y crowd, though Hermione was sure they didn't mean to be. They didn't exclude her, per se, but she didn't quite fit in amongst their groups.  
  
That wasn't to say she didn't have her friends there. She enjoyed a few deep, meaningful friendships among the staff, but they were more of a one-on-one basis, and rather infrequently. She didn't feel entirely comfortable in group settings, which included the staff table in front of all her students. So, she kept to herself.  
  
Her headache made the food unappetizing tonight - a heavy roast and mashed potatoes that she felt would do a number on her stomach the way she was feeling now. She forced herself to put some food on her plate and picked at it to keep up appearances, but very little actually passed her lips.  
  
She waited until another staff member left the table before making her own exit, desperate to get back to her room to get rid of what was fast becoming a migraine. If she waited too long, her usual potion wouldn't do the job, and she'd be forced to seek out Poppy for a stronger potion, which would mean another long lecture on self-care and working too hard. Not something Hermione was eager to spend her evening doing.  
  
When she arrived in her quarters, she locked and warded the door before quickly making her way to the lavatory to find the potion in her medicine cabinet. She carried it out to her sitting room before toeing her shoes off and stretching out on the sofa, teaching robes and all, swallowing down the potion and closing her eyes, rubbing her forehead in an attempt to rub away the ache. She felt the pain begin to recede, and she sighed in relief.  
  
Suddenly, she was startled awake by an insistent knocking at the door. Actually, it was more like pounding. She hadn't even realized she had fallen asleep. Thankful that her headache was gone, or the pounding would have done a number on her, she stood and made her way over to the door. Pulling it opened, she was surprised to find Remus on the other side, fist poised to bang again on the door.  
  
"Finally! I was about ready to try and take down your wards. Haven't you heard me knocking? I've been here nearly five minutes!"  
  
"Try to reign in the dramatics a bit, please," Hermione said, irked, "I fell asleep after dinner. I didn't realize I'd have company."  
  
Despite her annoyance, she pulled the door open wider to allow him entrance. He stepped around her, and she saw him glancing around the room, obvious looking for something. When his eyes fell on the empty vial sitting on her coffee table, his face hardened.  
  
"What are you doing here Remus?" She questioned.   
  
"Minerva was worried. Said you didn't seem yourself at dinner, and I agree. She would have come herself, but she had a prefects meeting this evening. But I said I'd come check on you."  
  
"Well, as you can see, I'm perfectly fine," Hermione replied huffily. Truthfully, she felt completely exhausted, her energy reserves were always low, but her headache had drained her, and she already knew she wouldn't sleep well.  
  
"Are you?" Remus as he softly. His green eyes often reflected gold in low light. Hermione had always loved that about him. It had fascinated her.  
  
"Of course I am!" She snapped. His face clearly said he remained unconvinced. She sighed, "I was just harboring a bad headache during dinner. I was able to take pain potion when I got back to my room. I'm fine now."

He took a few steps toward her coffee table and picked up the empty vial, "This pain potion?" he asked, reading the label.  
  
Hermione didn't answer. It was obvious the vial was her pain potion. When the silence had stretched on for several minutes, Remus sighed deeply and set the vial back down, "I'm worried about you Hermione. You _haven't_ been yourself lately, and if I'm honest, it's been going on for a very long time. You hardly eat anymore, I know you barely sleep, you're taking potentially addictive pain potions far too often to be healthy. What is going on with you?"  
  
Hermione's annoyance was quickly giving way to anger. "Why does everyone always think there is something wrong with me?! I'm very capable of taking care of myself!"  
  
Remus' face hardened again, "I didn't say there was something wrong with you. I asked you what was going on, because clearly there is something."  
  
Hermione sighed, rubbing her forehead in frustration.  
  
"Is your headache back?" Remus asked sharply.  
  
She glanced at him. He stood rigidly, but she saw his concern for her in his gold flecked eyes, and her anger softened.  
  
"No," she murmured reassuringly, "Don't worry, I won't be taking another pain potion tonight."  
  
He relaxed fractionally, but continued to study her. Uncomfortable under his steady gaze, she moved to the unlit fireplace, setting the blaze with a quick flick of her wand.  
  
"Is this still about the Room of Requirement?" He asked suddenly, almost startling her.  
  
She spun around to face him, "Why would you ask that?"  
  
She tried to keep the guilt out of her voice. She knew she didn't have anything to feel guilty about, but she cared for Remus and she knew he didn't approve of her little project. His disappointment in her when he found out she was still pursuing it after assuring him she would stop would cut at her.  
  
"You promised me you would walk away from that. Nearly a year ago now. Did you lie to me?"  
  
"No..." She hedged cautiously. And she hadn't been lying, at the time. She had walked away; she just hadn't stayed away. But she hadn't told him that.  
  
"I just... I need to do this, Remus. I know you don't understand, no one does. But it's just something I need to do."  
  
She didn't even understand it herself. What had started as a simple curiosity during her eighth year had turned into an almost all-encompassing obsession. She knew it wasn't healthy, and she knew it was the real reason her own wellbeing had been declining. But she couldn't seem to stop herself.  
  
Remus sighed deeply, "Hermione, don't do this to yourself."  
  
Hermione growled, frustrated. "Do you think I want to?! That I love obsessing over that damn Room?! That I want to spend all my free time researching and testing and failing?!"  
  
Remus held his hands up in surrender, and Hermione sucked in a deep breathe, attempting to calm herself.  
  
She spun around, pacing over to the fireplace again, avoiding his eye. She could feel his eyes on her.  
  
She rubbed her forehead in frustration before turning back towards him, "I'm sorry. I just... I am perfectly aware that what I've been doing isn't good for me. But I'm hardly the first person to pick-up an unhealthy habit or two in life. I'd rather not have to worry about my friends throwing it in my face all the time."  
  
She had attempted to keep her voice measured and her face composed. She was quite sure, judging by the pinched look on Remus' face, that she had failed at both those attempts.  
  
"I'm not throwing it in your face," he said, voice tight, "I'm worried about you. I just wish that if you can't walk away, you would at least take better care of yourself."  
  
Hermione deflated then, anger slipping away in the exhaustion she felt quickly mounting. She just nodded.  
  
He studied her for a moment more before stepping forward, taking her hands in his, "You can trust me, you know. Even if I don't agree with what you're doing, I'm always here for you. If you need help, or just someone to vent to when things aren't going right. Don't... Just don't forget to eat some food every once in a while."  
  
She squeezed his hands tightly, appreciating the sentiment of his words, even if they still annoyed her. He leaned in to kiss her cheek before saying goodnight and slipping out the door to her quarters.   
  
She slipped bonelessly onto her sofa, relaxing back and letting the warmth from the merrily blazing fire in the grate soothe her. She closed her eyes, contemplating Remus' words and her reaction to them.  
  
Truth be told, there had been a time in the not too distant past that Hermione wouldn't have hesitated to turn to him for help. But those days were gone. She suddenly realized that she hadn't noticed it happening.   
  
Their relationship had burned hot and bright but had fizzled quickly. In the aftermath of the war, they had found their way into each other's arms a couple weeks after the final battle. They had been friends before that, comrades in arms. She had spent quite a bit of time working with him in the Grimmauld Place library after Sirius had fallen. She had cared for him then, and it had been such a simple step to find her way into his bed.  
  
He had been far more broken than she had at first believed him to be, and she had been desperate to feel alive. She had never been with a man before, and she had loved the way he made her feel. Loved how his eyes always glowed amber in the darkness, loved how his stubble always left her skin feeling raw.  
  
She knew quickly that it wouldn't last, and was inexplicably elated to find out that he would be returning to Hogwarts as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and she would be returning as a student to complete the seventh year she had missed while on the run with Harry and Ron.  
  
She had been relieved to have an excuse to break it off, and though he had never said it, she knew he had been as well. The sex had been great, and it had been an amazing experience for Hermione, one that had succeeded in helping her climb out of the funk she had fallen into. But anything more wasn't in the cards for them.

But Remus had become one of her closet friend and confidant in the years since. For proprieties sake, they had stayed strictly student-teacher while she had finished her schooling, but then she had returned as a teacher the fall following her graduation, and it had been easy to find footing again with him as friends. She had been glad for that, worried their history would have made things too awkward. But it had had the opposite effect. He knew her intimately, truly, in a way no one else did. And she trusted him implicitly. Or she used to.  
  
She honestly hadn't realized that her trust in him had shifted. Maybe it had been his constant pressure for her to back off her project, or his need to watch and worry over her. She knew he was only doing it because he cared about her, but she had withdrawn from him, and she had no doubt that he had realized it was happening long before she had.  
  
She sighed again and sat up, deciding to try to move to her bed. She knew she wouldn't sleep well, she never did, but she felt like to was important to make the effort.   
  
She would seek Remus out in the morning before breakfast to try and close some of the distance she had put between them in recent months. She had little enough people on her side to be able to afford alienating one who had always been there for her.

* * *

A few evenings later found Hermione standing in front of the bare wall that used to house the entrance to the Room of Requirement. She had just made another failed attempt at mending the Room and she felt like crumpling to the ground in a heap of frustration. She had poured seven years of her life to this project, and she still couldn't get the damn Room to open.  
  
Instead, she took a deep breathe, gathered her books off the floor, and walked away toward the stairway that would lead to her quarters. She was not giving up. She would just look for the answer in another book. She knew it must be out there somewhere.  
  
As she murmured the password to her quarters and entered her small sitting room, she dropped her books onto the desk that dominated the room. Littered with parchment, she was reminded that she had essays to mark for both her third and fifth year students, but after the last few hours spent in the chilly hallway outside where the Room of Requirement should be, she felt drained, and even though there was still daylight left, she decided that the essays could wait. Tomorrow was Friday, and then she could spend the weekend catching up with her grading and researching her next idea.  
  
She made herself a cup of tea and dropped down onto the sofa. She used her wand to light the fire, hoping the warm drink and the heat from the flames would warm her. She laid her head back and thought about her failed attempt and where it may have gone wrong. She had come to believe that there was no one branch of magic that would heal the Room and make it open again. It had been so thoroughly destroyed by Fiendfyre, it was a miracle that entire section of the castle hadn't been obliterated. It stood to reason there would need to be some pretty complex magic utilized if it was going to be fixed.  
  
The doors hadn't even appeared since that fateful day when they had found Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem in the Room and it had been destroyed. And though any number of people had questioned Hermione's sanity on why it was so important to her to mend the Room (her friends being the most outspoken in what they thought a pointless quest), she couldn't explain it. She felt drawn to the project, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't walk away from it. Maybe it was just the impossibility of the task and her drive to always figure out the impossible. Or maybe it was her feeling that Room deserved to be fixed after everything it had done for her and her friends. Though technically not sentient, it was hard for Hermione not to see it as a being unto itself, otherwise, how would it always know what you required?  
  
Her obsession had started during her "eighth year," when she and a number of other people from her year decided to come back to attend their final year and sit for their NEWTS. She couldn't accept the idea that she hadn't finished schooling, and though Harry and Ron had happily joined the Auror program sans NEWTS scores, Hermione had returned to Hogwarts, along with fourteen other classmates.  
  
It was decided the older students would be treated as the adults they legally were. Though they attended class with the seventh years, they were assigned their own dormitory and common room, and were, therefore, essentially houseless. They had no curfew and could come and go from the castle on the weekends as they pleased, as long as they kept up with their schoolwork, received good marks, and attended classes regularly.  
  
Hermione found it hard to settle back into school life after such a difficult year on the run. And without Harry and Ron there to keep her from working too hard, she threw herself wholeheartedly into her schoolwork. And with her tendency to become obsessive with a project, she soon focused her attention on the Room of Requirement and the mystery it posed.  
  
No one knew how the Room worked to begin with and now that it appeared to have gone dormant completely, it was even more of a mystery. She just became fascinated by it, and began utilizing her unlimited access to the Restricted Section as an eighth year student to begin researching it.  
  
Many areas of the castle were in disrepair at that time, and though it was structurally sound and classes were able to resume in September on schedule, no one had even looked at the Room. It wasn't a priority, which Hermione could understand. So, she made it her priority.   
  
All she did was research that first year. It wasn't until she came back the following school year as Hogwarts’ newest Arithmancy professor that she decided to start experimenting, with the headmistress' approval. Minerva had been supportive of her efforts, and if she thought them a fool's errand, she never let Hermione know.  
  
The project had been entirely her own. She had researched it, toiled over it, experimented with it, and eventually obsessed over it. Every failure she met made her feel more desperate to find a solution. She hadn't even realized until her argument with Remus how much of a detriment to her relationships it had become.   
  
Always a bit of a loner, she hadn't really been bothered when she had officially started her adult life and career with few friends. When she first had settled into life at Hogwarts, she regularly corresponded with Harry and also Ron to a lesser extent. She had quickly settled into an easy friendship with Remus and Minerva, though the latter was often too busy with school business to have much free time to catch up.   
  
Over the next couple years Hermione had struck up relationships with some of her old teachers, though friendship may be too strong a word for what it was. Enough to stop in for tea to commiserate over a difficult Gryffindor/Slytherin period, but not deep enough to have any true connection.  
  
But now that she was reflecting, she couldn't remember the last time she had a cup of tea with another teacher. Or a drink at the Three Broomsticks with Minerva. A discussion over wine and whisky with Remus. Or a letter from Ron or Harry. When had she last written to them? Seen them?  
  
She had skived off Christmas at the Burrow the previous year, not able to stand the idea of the loud, boisterous crowd. Had it been last summer? Yes, it had been Harry's birthday party. When she had gotten into a discussion (fight really) with Harry, Ron, and Remus, which had led to Hermione promising to back off her project to appease the people she cared most about in this world. A promise that had lasted until two weeks into the start of the new fall term before she had picked up another book to try and find answers.  
  
Her friends hadn't been concerned at the start. It had always been Hermione's nature to pick a project apart and dwell on it. But on that summer evening of the party, she had shown up at Grimmauld Place not looking her best, and she had known it. She had been losing weight, her hair was lackluster, and her skin sallow. Her closest friends had immediate zeroed in on it and quickly expressed their concerns.   
  
Only Remus knew of the extent of her obsession, as he lived in the castle with her during the school year. He wasted no time informing Harry and Ron, which in turn angered her.  
  
She sighed deeply. What a horrible friend she had become. All because of this damn Room. And the worst part was she had no explanation for it. Did it truly matter if that Room ever opened again? It did to her, and she didn't know why.  
  
Deciding making amends was in order, she made a mental note to write both Harry and Ron over the weekend and to seek Minerva out for a drink. Thankfully, Remus had rather gracefully accepted the apology she had offered the morning after their argument, along with her promise to do better at taking care of herself and their friendship.   
  
If she couldn't forget about the Room of Requirement, at least she could try and make sure she wasn't completely alone along the way.


	2. Chapter 2

Over the next couple weeks, Hermione tried to reconnect with her friends. She sent rather long, heartfelt letters to both Harry and Ron apologizing for being so distant and asking them to write her back.  
  
She received an equally long letter back from Harry that had explained that he wasn't upset with her, only worried, and he hoped he would see her in person soon.  
  
The response she received from Ron left something to be desired. Short and rather curt, Hermione was able to read between the lines that Ron was not as prepared as Harry to forgive Hermione for her silence over the past months.  
  
She was not surprised by the reaction of her friends. Ron had always been quick to temper and slower to forgive, and while Harry had had his moments when they were younger, he was generally the more even-tempered of the three of them.  
  
She could at least take heart that Ron had bothered to reply at all. He could have just left her hanging, wondering at his feelings about her letter. Hopefully he just needed some more time and correspondence with her.

She promptly wrote both men back, promising to write more often and come to London for a visit as soon as her schedule allowed.  
  
As she was putting the finishing touches on Ron's letter, there was a knock at her quarter's door. She left the ink to dry as she tightened her dressing gown and went to see who would be visiting her at such a late hour.  
  
She was not surprised to see Remus standing on the other side, but was relieved to see him smiling warmly at her, a nice change from the last time he had been standing there. She smiled back at him and leaned against the door frame.  
  
"How can I help you?" She ask playfully and felt her heartstrings pull as his smile turned to a grin.  
  
He held out a bottle of wine, "I thought we could have a proper catch-up."  
  
"Hmm, you sure know how to entice a girl. You know I don't keep that foul stuff you prefer on hand though."  
  
With that, he held out his other hand to show her a new bottle of Ogden's Finest and she grinned back at him and pulled the door open for him to enter. Soon, they were sitting on the sofa in front of her fireplace, sipping their liquid of choice, and generally catching up.  
  
The conversation lulled, and Hermione felt the dampening the wine had had on her brain. She turned to study her companion.  
  
Remus was a handsome man. She had always thought so, even when she had been only thirteen and he her teacher. Many women may find his lycanthropy scars off putting, but she found them fascinating. He was always just slightly rumpled, with his sandy blond hair, threaded through generously with gray, never combed completely neat. Though he was usually clean shaven, the sight of the scars that crisscrossed his face gave the otherwise rather studious looking man a dangerous vibe.  
  
Suddenly feeling flushed, she tried to distract herself by taking a sip of wine. However, her sip turned to a gulp, and she started sputtering on the unexpected infusion of liquid.  
  
Remus sat up and turned to her in concern. She waved him off as she coughed and tried to catch her breath. He hovered close next to her, but visibly relaxed when she was finally able to breathe easier again.  
  
She sank back into the couch and closed her eyes. She felt Remus settle into the same position next to her. She could feel his arm pressed into hers, and she tried to ignore the feeling. The sudden thoughts she was having about Remus were unexpected and unwanted. She had not thought of him as anything other than a friend in many years, she didn't want that to change now.  
  
Her thoughts were interrupted by his voice, "I meant what I said, you know. About helping you with the Room. If you truly can't walk away, then I'll help you figure it out."  
  
Maybe it was the alcohol, or the fact that for the first time in a long time, she didn't feel so alone, but Hermione's eyes filled with tears. She didn't open them, but she felt Remus shift then felt his arm come around her shoulders and he pulled her further into his side. She snuggled there, suddenly forgetting her confusing thoughts about this man she had moments before.  
  
"I'm frightened," she whispered into the silence that followed, "I don't understand what's happening to me, and I can't control it. I don't want it to ruin my life any more than it already has."  
  
"We won't let it," he whispered back, voice sounding fierce, "Let me help you. We'll solve it together so you can put it behind you and move on."  
  
The idea of letting someone help her had never appealed to her before. Of course, no one had ever offered. It didn't take much consideration for her to nod her head. Nor did it take long for her to drift off to sleep. When she awoke the following morning, tucked neatly in bed, dressing gown thrown across the foot of the bed, she stared in shock at the bright rays of sunlight streaked across her room. It had been the first time she had slept through the night since returning to Hogwarts seven years ago.

* * *

She had slept through breakfast, and had nearly been late to her first class. But she rushed through the door right as the students had started trickling in, casting strange looks her way. That was probably mostly to do with her hair. In all the years she had taught, she had never worn her hair down, preferring the tight neatness of a bun or brain. But with little time to get ready and brain still somewhat scrambled from the wine the evening before, she hadn't thought to cast the necessary charms to tame her curls.  
  
She briefly thought about doing so now, but it was too late. Her students had seen her, and there was no point. She smiled down at the class as first period began, tucking her hair behind her ears as much as possible.  
  
At lunch, she caught Remus staring at her from his spot across the table. Unlike her, he had other friends among the staff, and preferred to sit amongst them at meals. She had never minded, in fact much preferred her quiet end of the table. But he caught her eye, and she saw him smirk at her. Stupid wild hair, she thought miserably. No one would take her seriously again.  
  
She scowled at him, which just managed to make him look even more insufferable. She attempted to shovel down her food and leave as fast as possible, but before she could make her escape, she heard his voice from behind her chair.  
  
"Going for a new look, I see. Or perhaps I should say an old look?"  
  
"Hardly," she answered, glaring over her shoulder up at him, "I overslept and didn't have time to put everything in order."  
  
He quirked an eyebrow at that, "Overslept? I didn't think you got much sleep these days."  
  
"Not usually, but last night was different."  
  
He eyed her speculatively, but she was happy that he chose not to comment on why last night may have been different. Instead he said, "Let's carve out some time this weekend to discuss your project. I'd like to know what you've attempt so far."  
  
"Of course," Hermione said, stomach suddenly in knots. She remembered agreeing to letting him help her, but now that her brain was clear, she was suddenly nervous at the prospect of someone looking at her work. "Sunday morning, after breakfast?"

"I'll meet you at your quarters then. And for the record, I happen to miss your curls," he said with a smile, before turning on his heel and heading out the staff entrance.  
  
Hermione's stomach was in knots for a completely different reason as she watched him walk away.

* * *

When Sunday morning rolled around, Hermione was both nervous and excited for her meeting with Remus. She had spent the whole afternoon the day before sorting and organizing her notes. She hadn't realized what a mess they had become until she looked at them from the viewpoint of someone else. She knew she couldn't show Remus the notes as they were--he would not be able to make sense of them and she would probably come off as more mad than she already felt.  
  
Finally satisfied that the notes were in as good of order as they could be, she spent the rest of the evening and most of the night obsessing over what Remus would think of her and her mess. And would he be able to see something she had not that would work?  
  
When Remus showed up at her door, she felt almost queasy. But he reassured her with a gentle smile and a few leading questions, and after that it didn't take long for her to fall into lecture mode.  
  
She told him of all the research she had done and all the experimenting. He asked questions at all the appropriate times, and seemed particularly interested in her use of spells she had created herself, often in an attempt to mix two branches of magic in a way that may fix the problem.  
  
After she had finally wound down, she felt exhausted. She watched him lean back in his chair and stare at the parchment littering the table in front of him.  
  
"Wow... Hermione, this is really impressive. The magic you've utilized... I can't imagine any of this has been easy."  
  
Hermione shrugged, "No, not easy. But it’s done me no good. The doors haven't even appeared. I don't know where to go from here."  
  
"And you said your Arithmancy equations have not been of use?"  
  
Hermione flung the roll of parchment she had in her hand down angrily, "They've been worse than useless! They have been telling me for years that the door should be appearing, but it never has. I thought I made a mistake with my calculations, but they're all correct. I don't know what's wrong!"  
  
Remus leaned forward and put a hand on her arm, "We'll figure it out. Can you show me the spells you've used again?"  
  
They worked through lunch, and when Hermione started yawning, Remus called it a day, "I'll look at my books. I doubt I have anything there of use, but it's a place to start. Then we can put some more ideas together and make another attempt next weekend perhaps?"  
  
"No!" Hermione's heart had seemed to seize up at the mention of Remus coming with her to attempt to open the Room. She quickly continued at his startled look, "I'm sorry! It's just... After all these years, I'd prefer to make any attempts to open the Room alone. I can't... I don't know what I'd do if it opened for you and not for me."  
  
He seemed to contemplate her words, and she was relieved to see he didn't seem offended by her outburst. Finally, he nodded, "I can understand that. I'll respect your decision. So, we come up with some ideas together, and you test them on your own?"  
  
Hermione let out a sigh of relief and nodded.

* * *

Remus didn't find anything useful in his books, but he had some ideas on how to adjust some of the spells she had used. She didn't have any luck with his ideas, but he didn't seem too put off by that. When her frustration and discouragement was met with his confidence in finding a solution, she actually felt better. Maybe having a new set of eyes on the project wasn't such a bad idea.  
  
She decided to take some time the following weekend to go visit Harry in London. She wanted to make good on her promise to visit as soon as she could, and she didn't want to run the risk that a delay in seeing him would sour his attitude toward her again.  
  
She considered writing to Ron as well and asking him to meet her for a drink before she came back to Scotland, but quickly decided against it. She definitely had more work to do to repair their relationship than she did with Harry and couldn't face seeing him yet. She would write him a long letter instead and owl it to him, perhaps asking to meet when classes were over in just over a month.  
  
Deciding it would be best to surprise Harry and hoping he didn't have plans, she Apparated to the front steps of Grimmauld Place. There had been days in the not too distant past that she would have simply walked in, but she no longer felt comfortable doing so. So, instead she wrapped on the ancient knocker and waited for someone to come to the door.  
  
She didn't have to wait long. Soon, the door swung open and Hermione was surprised to be met by, not Harry, but a pretty blond woman that looked vaguely familiar.  
  
She gaped rather stupidly for a beat too long before the woman said, "Hermione, right? It's been a long time."  
  
The words, delivered in a rather clipped, aristocratic tone, which triggered something in Hermione's memory, and she stuttered out, "Y-e-e-s. Daphne?"  
  
The woman nodded before Harry appeared at her elbow, looking quite dapper in his dress robes. It was then that Hermione noticed how dressed up Daphne was.  
  
"Hermione!" The genuine pleasure in Harry's voice made her heart soar. She had been worried his words on parchment wouldn't translate when he was actually faced with seeing her in person. But soon his arms were wrapped around her in a friendly embrace, and she wondered, not for the first time, why she had ever pushed him away.  
  
"I'm sorry to just drop by and interrupt your evening. I should have owled to say I was coming. You two are obviously headed out somewhere special."  
  
Harry scoffed, "Hardly special. My boss at the DMLE is being presented with some lifetime award for sacrifice or some such rubbish. He's made my life a living hell for the last three years, but all his underlings are expected to attend."  
  
"Oh, well, I guess I'll come back another evening? I'll owl first this time."  
  
"No, you don't have to do that! We won't be gone more than an hour or two. I just plan on showing my face just long enough to be acceptable, then leaving. Stay here, and we can talk when I get home."  
  
Harry's words made her glance at Daphne, wondering if she would be overstepping if she stayed. But Daphne smiled at her and said, "I have to be at work early tomorrow, so I was hoping for an early night too."  
  
"As long as it's not an inconvenience," Hermione murmured uncomfortably.  
  
"Of course it isn't! Go on in."  
  
At Harry's words, Hermione smiled and slipped past them into the front hall. After bidding the couple goodbye, Hermione sighed and looked around.  
  
Grimmauld Place had changed a lot in the years since the war ended. With the removal of Walburga Black's horrifying portrait (compliments of Hermione herself, who finally figured out how to unstick the painting), the hall seemed much more welcoming. It didn't hurt that Harry had the walls painted a light cream color and had refinished the old wooden floors. She noticed a bouquet of fresh flowers on the hall table. That must be Daphne's work, she mused.  
  
Hermione slowly started to ascend the stairs to make her way to her favorite part of the house. When she reached it, she was unsurprised to find the door firmly closed. Pushing it open, she smiled.  
  
The library was obviously infrequently used. Harry had updated the decor and painted the walls, but otherwise, the shelves stood untouched, under a fine layer of dust. Forgoing a new house elf after Kreacher's death two years prior had been an easy decision for Harry. She had applauded him for it, but that also meant a room that was so infrequently used it often didn't get the cleaning it deserved.  
  
She walked down the bookshelves and smiled at the familiar titles. She had spent many hours in this room over the years. It had been her safe haven during some difficult times, and her resource when she needed a book that may have been a little more unsavory in her search for answers about the Room of Requirement.  
  
This room had also been the last place she had spoken to Sirius before he died. It was a few days before the end of their Christmas break when they would be back on the Hogwarts Express. She had been huddled in a chair dozing after spending a number of hours hiding from the chaos and getting lost in a book. Sirius had burst in, startling a shriek out of her and causing him to draw his wand on her in surprise. He had immediately dropped it when he recognized her, but the wild look in his eye a moment before had told her she had been within a hairs breadth of being hexed that day.  
  
He had mumbled an apology and turned to go, but for some reason she couldn't understand, she had asked him to stay. They hadn't been close; indeed, they’d barely gotten along at all, but he had nodded and joined her, picking up a book on the desk and sitting in the chair next to her. Obviously already part way through the book, he started reading in silence, and she had joined him until Mrs. Wesley had called them for dinner.  
  
That had been it. It was the longest amount of time she had ever spent alone with him, but instead of making her feel uncomfortable, it had made her feel like they had reached a truce of some kind. And though she had seen him several times over the next several days, they had not spoken. After she left that last morning for Hogwarts, she never saw him again.  
  
She didn't often think of him anymore, but this room always made her nostalgic. And she felt sad for him. Sad for the life he should have led. For the life he was constantly denied. Reaching the desk, she sat down behind it with a sigh. On a whim, she opened the top drawer and her heart stopped.  
  
Laying on top of some scrap parchment and old quills was the book Sirius had been reading that night. She stared at it before reaching in and sliding it out of the drawer. It was a classic Muggle novel, filled with adventure and danger. She had thought it a perfect read for the restless man when she had been sixteen watching him read it. Fingers running lightly over the title, she smiled at the memory.  
  
She opened the book to the marked page, an old cracked leather bookmark, clearly well used, and her smiled faded. It didn't look like he had read anymore of the book than he had that night. She had watched him place that mark as she stood to leave the room. Suddenly saddened again about all the life he had missed out on, she turned back to the beginning of the book. If he couldn't finish it for himself, she would enjoy it for him.  
  
She became so engrossed in her reading, she jumped at the sound of Harry's voice, "I always know right where to find you."  
  
"You startled me. Are you home already?" She asked, marking the book with the leather bookmark.  
  
"Already?" Harry questioned, leaning against the door frame, "My boss wouldn't let me get away. It's been nearly three hours. Thought you might have given up on me and gone home."  
  
"No, I...was distracted."  
  
"Guess so. Is that Sirius' book?" Harry walked over to the sofa, loosening his tie as he walked. He lay it and his dress robes neatly over the back before plopping down.  
  
"Yes, it was in the desk. Would you mind if I borrowed it? I want to finish now that I started."  
  
Harry waved a hand dismissively, "Keep it. You and Remus are the only ones who come around to look at these books anyway."  
  
She murmured her thanks and considered getting up to join him. But she felt protected by the distance between them and the desk she sat behind.  
  
"So. Daphne Greengrass?"  
  
The grin that split Harry's face told it all, "Yes, Daphne. She's really great."  
  
"I'm sure she is. How did you get together?" Hermione tried to quash down the hurt she felt at the thought that she didn't already know. That had been her own fault.  
  
"She's a healer at St. Mungo's. A friend at the department was injured on the job. Nothing too bad, but it landed him in the hospital. Daphne was his healer. I met her while visiting, and we really hit it off. I asked her out to dinner, and we've been together ever since."  
  
Hermione smiled at his obvious happiness, but her stomach was all knotted up from the guilt she felt. How had she let her relationships deteriorate this badly? Her best and oldest friend was clearly madly in love and she hadn't even known he was seeing anyone.  
  
Dreading the answer to her next question, but needing to ask it anyway, Hermione said, "How long have you been together?"  
  
Harry's face took on a guilty look before admitting, "Since September."  
  
"September," Hermione breathed, shaken. She had thought perhaps a few months, but eight months is far longer than she had even considered. How had she not known?  
  
"When we started seeing each other, you and I had just had that big fight at my birthday party. You hadn't written to me, and I thought about writing to break the silence, but the more time that passed, the harder it became to pick up a quill. So then I thought we'd make amends at Christmas, but..."  
  
"But I didn't come to visit at Christmas. I'm so sorry Harry."  
  
"You've already apologized in your letter, no need to do it again. It's not as if I handled the situation as well as I could have," Harry's shrug was chagrined, "Our fight was as much my fault as yours, and I should never have pushed you or let it escalate."  
  
Hermione sighed, thinking back to that evening almost a year ago. It had been Harry's birthday, celebrating twenty-five. Hermione had arrived late, distracted by her research. She had shown up looking disheveled, frazzled, and exhausted. Harry had expressed concern, and in her fragile mental state, she had snapped at him. Their argument had escalated, and Ron had stepped in and started railing at her against her Room of Requirement project and how it had taken over her life. That it had become more important to her than her friends.  
  
She hadn't realized until recently how true that had become. Harry hadn't verbally agreed with Ron, but she could tell by his facial expression he did. Her anger and frustration had boiled over, and she had exploded at them both, causing quite the scene. Remus had interceded, trying to diffuse the situation, and she had turned on him too. It wasn't until she had calmed down that she had seen the hurt in her three closest friends eyes, and she had halfheartedly told them she would walk away from her project to protect their friendship.  
  
But the damage had been done. Remus had sought her out several weeks later when term was getting underway, but their relationship hadn't been quite the same. And while she had walked away from her research for a short time, being in the castle when the school year started again, (away from Harry and Ron and close to the puzzle she so desperately wanted to solve) she had fallen back into her habit. She hadn't written to Harry or Ron after their fight, anger lingering over their interference. And they hadn't written her either, and so it had remained until Remus had brought the rift to her attention several weeks ago.  
  
"There was fault on both sides,” Hermione conceded, knowing he wouldn't let that go, "But if I hadn't been so frazzled that evening, it wouldn't have happened. I truly didn't realize until recently how much I have let this affect my life. I really... I just can't explain what's happened to me."  
  
Harry stood suddenly and walked over to her. It was then that she realized her cheeks were wet from tears she hadn't known she was shedding. Harry pulled her from her seat and wrapped his arms tightly around her. She reciprocated the hug and couldn't help but let the tears come and he rubbed her back in comfort.  
  
"You'll figure it out, 'Mione. You always do."  
  
Hermione tried to take comfort from his words, but she was having a hard time rising above the emptiness she felt every time she thought about that Room.


End file.
